


Cersei and Jaime: From the Very First (You're the Only One)

by mage_girl



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sibling Incest, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mage_girl/pseuds/mage_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cersei has always loved Jaime from when they were very small. A timeline that leads up to Game of Thrones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cersei and Jaime: From the Very First (You're the Only One)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphrodite_mine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/gifts).



Her first memory was of him. It wouldn’t surprise her to find that one day, her last memory would be of him. Not of the man she married but of her brother, his smile and his hair that glinted gold flame in the sun.

She was young. So young that she could crawl into his bed without being scolded. Her bed was too big and she didn’t like the dark and father was driven half mad by grief. Grief was heavy in the house and so was anger. Anger at the misshapen baby wailing in the castle. She couldn’t stand to look at him, at it. He stole their mother away from them, took her from them and as an obscene joke, left him in place. Fool’s gold instead of true gold.  
Still. Night time brought the dark and after the septa had retired to her chamber, she would carefully get out of her bed and climb into her brother’s, waking him as she put her cold feet on his legs. ‘Cersei!’ he’d fuss, but quietly, and she would snuggle next to him, sighing. He would put his arm around her. ‘Sleep. Safe,’ he said. Cersei closed her eyes and slept, his scent clouding her mind.

She was a little older and curious. Curious because she was a female and he was a male and their bodies were changing just enough for her to wonder how he looked under his small clothes. She had touched herself between her legs and discovered the sensuous joy of rubbing her fingers over her clit. She wondered what he rubbed, if he had something similar that would cause sparks behind his closed eyes when the sensations became overwhelming. She waited until bedtime, until way after dark, and then made her way to his bed again. He moaned when she reached down beneath his drawers, groaned when she touched the slender stalk she found there. His body clenched as she stroked it to hardness, his fingers tight on her hip as she stroked and circled and teased with her slim fingers. He arched when he came, her name whispered in the dark. So. Her questions were answered in the scent of sex and the heat between her own legs. She moaned when his fingers slipped between the lips of her pussy and teased and hardened the small nub there. She came harder than she’d ever had before, her nipples tightening, his name swallowed by his mouth, his tongue touching hers. She lost herself in his touch and his hands. She’d felt reborn.

She was wise enough to not let him thrust into her and tear her only treasure, the one thing that gave her value in the world of men. Elsewise, she and he explored each others bodies, mapping each others’ pleasure points with hands and tongue and teeth. She learned how he best liked having his cock sucked, how he would tangle his hands in her hair to urge her on. He spent hours between her legs, his mouth and fingers working her to a sweaty frenzy, her hands gripping his own hair. There were times when they were entwined together, his mouth at her pussy, her mouth taking his cock deep into her throat, rocking together to orgasm. When he first thrust into her ass, slowly, gently working past her muscles to finally be fully sheathed, his balls rubbing against her skin, she about went mad with sensation. He balanced himself on her, facing her, his face that of ecstasy and paradise found. He pressed kisses to her face, down her neck, and rubbed her clit with his fingers, making sure her orgasm was complete before throwing his head back and coming inside of her. She looked up at him, after the sparks faded, seeing his hair glow in the light, a halo of molten gold. She knew she’d never love another the way she loved him.

After her marriage, after she was disillusioned and set aside for the earthy pleasures of the serving women in the castle, after she discovered she could not compete with a ghost long dead, she ended her separation from her brother. She had told him that she had to try and be queen, that she could love this black haired stranger. He had wept in her arms and was inconsolable. She remembered him getting up from the bed, the scent of sex still lingering, and leaving her without a backwards glance. That was then, however, and this was now. Now, she approached him in the great hall, now she looked at him and smiled. He trembled to see that smile, knowing the hidden message behind it.  
That night, he came to her chambers,knowing she’d be there alone. For the first time, he brought her to orgasm with his cock, could feel her inner walls pulse around him, clenching him in tight. He came with her name on his lips, his body trembling like the child he used to be. She held him tight to her, tears welling in her eyes. When his body thrust into hers, she felt as though she found a missing piece. She had come home again and in the course of the night, where there was no sleep and he brought her to orgasm again and again, she vowed never to leave again.

She knew their younger brother knew. She knew there were whispers in their family from time to time. When they’d been younger, they’d been caught by a septa or two and were verbally disciplined. This only made them more cunning and careful. They would not be separated from each other. Not by a mere servant. Not by their brother and not even by their father. There were three beautiful children, each fathered by her brother. How her oaf of a husband didn’t know was beyond her; after all, he had bastards a plenty with dark dark hair. How could he not see that the ones he claimed as his own had hair the colour of molten gold? No matter. They were the heirs to the throne, she had her brother in hand, and she was queen of all. 

They were getting ready to leave King’s Landing. The old Hand of the King was dead and her husband had it in his head to go up to the North to pay his old friend a visit. Her lip curled. Aye, go up to the North and pay a visit to the Starks and also to the mausoleum where she laid. No matter. Her brother would be going with and there would be opportunity, she was sure, to take him to some hidden place. She would strip off his clothes, he would remove hers, and they would make love fiercely, passionately, that fillip of danger, of discovery amongst strangers would add spice to the adventure. Nothing would come of it, of course. No one would discover them. They’d make love and laugh and later on, in the great hall of the Starks, would eye each other with hidden delight and amusement.

She put on a riding cloak and swept downstairs. The journey was about to begin.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to the most wonderful aphrodite_mine for beta'ing the shit outta this.


End file.
